Probably Wouldn't Be This Way
by I hart Booth
Summary: [It was nearly nine when she finally broke. Not the miserable, desperate sort of break that plagued her in the mornings. It was the angry kind.]song by Leann Rimes Oneshot songfic


**Sorry this is so angsty. Character Death. Tissue Warning. All that stuff, thanks for checking this out. **

She could taste the salt on her lips, but couldn't see the tears in her eyes. Every time her eyelids met they squeezed another piece of her soul between them and it rolled down her cheeks unnoticed. She gritted her teeth and let her head fall back against the pillow, forcing her lungs to draw in air, knowing that doing so was a necessary and vital part of life. Thriving on the knowledge that the world would continue to turn, the sun would rise and fall in the sky, whether or not she were in it, but not wishing to test the theory.

**Got a date a week from Friday with the preacher's son  
Everybody says he's crazy  
I'll have to see**

Clutching the sheets tighter around her body, Brennan tried to find the will to get out of bed as the red alarm clock numbers glowed before her. When she didn't find it, she forced herself up anyway, knowing that was what she needed to do. She needed to take a shower and brush her hair. Make breakfast and make the bed, she needed to control everything she could in her own life, now that she truly understood just how much she wasn't in control of for everything else. It was 8:13am. She would be late.

**I finally moved to Jackson when the summer came  
I won't have to pay that boy to rake my leaves  
I'm probably going on and on  
It seems I'm doing more of that these days**

She worked diligently at the lab, sans makeup and her hair tightly pulled back, she took meticulous, detailed notes, poring over every detail as if a life hung in the balance. In a way it did, her own.

**I probably wouldn't be this way  
I probably wouldn't hurt so bad  
I never pictured every minute without you in it  
Oh you left so fast **

She knew that she needed this. She needed this routine, this monotonous, irritating, completely inconsequential sequence of events to keep her life in order. She needed to control what she had left, needed to stand on her own two feet just to be sure they were still there.

And when a warm drop of water slipped from her nose to her clipboard, a silent testament to the grievous chore her life had become, she hastily wiped it away and took a deep breath, praying to a God she didn't believe in, for the composure she knew she'd long lost.

**Sometimes I see you standing there  
Sometimes it's like I'm losing touch  
Sometimes I feel that I'm so lucky to have had the chance to love this much**

Suddenly, unbidden and unanticipated, an image of his face assaulted her mind's eye and she felt the breath leave her. As if she'd just been kicked in the stomach, the weight of a thousand pounds pressed against her chest and she struggled for the air that was rightfully hers. She leaned against the exam table as her hands began to shake and she fought off the urge to cover her ears as the soft sound of his whispered promises played through her mind.

**God gave me a moment's grace  
Cause if I'd never seen your face  
I probably wouldn't be this way **

When the episode did not immediately pass, she as quietly and quickly as possible, set down her clipboard and tape recorder and left the platform, brushing past countless lab techs and colleagues on her way to the bathroom.

The bathroom had never before been a refuge for her, but of late it had become one of her favorite haunts. It was clean and sterile, absorbent materials abounded and on the chance she needed to throw up, which was not altogether impossible, she was already in a pretty good spot. She'd also discovered that, while Angela was perfectly okay with barging into her office or apartment when she felt the need had arisen, bathrooms tended to be a bit more private, the locks much more substantial.

Brennan shut herself into her usual stall, third from the left with the cracked tile on the floor, and sank against the floor length walls, clasping her hands tight to keep them from shaking. She swallowed each and every sob until she could breathe normally again. When the shaking stopped and air moved in and out of her mouth freely, she slowly stood, now light headed from the pounding of her heart, and went to the sink. Without pause to look herself in the mirror, already knowing what she'd find, she splashed water on her face and then dried it.

With one more deep breath, she put on what she hoped passed for a neutral expression and marched back out into the lab hoping to fill her mind with useless facts rather than images of the one man she'd ever truly trusted.

Yes, the bathroom was a very logical refuge indeed.

**You ought to see the way these people look at me  
When they see me round here talking to this stone  
Everybody thinks I've lost my mind  
But I just take it day by day**

Angela had of coursed asked her to come to lunch, and she had of course declined. Now that he wasn't there to make her eat, and she wasn't hungry anyway, she really didn't see the need. She could feel their eyes on her all the time, hear their whispers of concern and sympathy constantly, but she refused to acknowledge them. What good did they do her? Could they change what had happened? Could they bring him back?

Of course not, and if they couldn't, then there was no point. And life, she had learned, was too short for pointless conversations.

**I probably wouldn't be this way  
I probably wouldn't hurt so bad  
I never pictured every minute without you in it  
Oh you left so fast **

**It** was nearly nine when she finally broke. Not the miserable, desperate sort of break that plagued her in the mornings when his warmth wasn't there beside her in their bed. Neither was it the depressed, helpless sort of break that snuck up on her throughout the day and squeezed her neck and chest with heartache. It was a different kind of break. The angry kind.

The lights in the lab were dim and most had gone home. Perhaps it was the seeming solitude that gave her the final push over the edge to rage. It could have been the computer glitch that had the infuriating device running at close to a quarter of it's normal speed, or it may have been when she squeezed so hard on her pen that it broke in her hands. But more than likely it was the way his face kept popping into her head making it impossible to breathe or think properly. Whatever it was that pushed her, she fell. Hard and fast.

**Sometimes I see you standing there  
Sometimes I feel an angel's touch  
Sometimes I feel that I'm so lucky to have had the chance to love this much **

Her chair shot out from under her as she leapt to her feet, blind with a target-less rage. It toppled over beside her but she paid it no mind. First she flung the pen she'd broken at the far wall.

When the small utensil didn't make a satisfying enough sound, she reached for the half full cup of day old coffee on the corner of her desk and sent it careening in the same direction as the pen. This one made a very gratifying noise and splashed the brown liquid on everything within four feet. After the coffee cup flew the pencil sharpener and the cordless computer mouse, the table lamp and the cube of yellow sticky notes she kept beside it. She began grasping for anything left, the stapler, the paperclips, and another mug. When her adrenaline filled fingertips wouldn't take hold of the endless piles of paper and forms, she simply pushed every last shred of the insufferable stacks to the ground and they scattered at her feet.

**God gave me a moment's grace **

It was then that her wild eyes, now blood shot and the color of an untamed storm, landed on a brown square picture frame lying desolate and defeated against the far wall. Without a thought she rushed over to it and crashed to her knees in the midst of the victims of her fury. Her whole body trembled and she again tasted the familiar salt as it leaked between her parted, wheezing lips, she reached for the picture frame. Cradling the small object in her lap. Her thumb traced the smiling faces that stared up at her, sliding roughly across the broken glass. She didn't really notice the cut until the dot of blood began rolling a jagged path down the middle of the glass, proverbially separating them forever.

**Cause if I'd never seen your face **

"Sweetie."

Brennan looked up slowly to find Angela standing a few feet away, that horribly cliché look of pity and concern on her face.

"It's time to go."

It took her a moment, but Brennan finally nodded and pulled herself off the floor. She wasn't at all embarrassed to be found that way, nursing her salt filled wounds the best way she knew how. It wasn't the first time Angela had come back to rescue her from her own workaholic, self-destructive ways and found her a crumpled heap of a woman. And it most likely would not be the last.

Soundlessly, she lead the way out the door, leaving Angela to get her coat and purse and not much caring if she did or didn't as long as she didn't say one more word about how 'time heals all wounds'. It was bullshit and even Brennan knew it.

**I probably wouldn't be this way**

Brennan sat staring out the passenger window while the quiet, cold rain of early Autumn drizzled softly against it. She didn't bother trying to think of anything, both her mind and body were too exhausted to try.

"So I thought we'd just go straight home tonight Brennan, it's already almost ten and it's raining." Angela tried, glancing over quickly, hoping to see a change. There was none.

When her friend didn't answer after a few minutes, Angela sighted defeated and turned left in the opposite direction of Brennan's apartment.

**Got a date a week from Friday with a preacher's son  
Everybody says I'm crazy  
Guess I'll have to see **

Rain plastered her hair and clothes to her skin, but Brennan didn't notice. The cool water was a welcome change to the warm tears she was so used to.

She stared down at the headstone and licked her salty lips, preparing to speak to him for the first time.

"Hey Booth," She began, speaking no louder than the rain, "I miss you."

She closed her eyes, hoping he cold hear her.


End file.
